I am not one to exaggerate, but when my friend invited me to go horseback riding with her, I nearly died.
I'm not generally a fan of farm animals unless they're on a plate and accompanied by potatoes.
The thought of trusting my safety to a thousand-pound herbivore didn't strike me as particularly fetching.
I read about horses when I was a little girl dreaming of being a Disney princess and when I was a bitter, cynical teenager. I read more when I became a reasonably optimistic adult who only got bitter and cynical around tax season.
I wanted to meet a horse like Black Beauty, Flicka, or Misty of Chincoteague.
So I agreed to ride, partly for that reason, and partly because I knew Eileen would never forgive me nor my descendants for the next six generations if I didn't.
A book wouldn't help me get onto........